


ArchiveofourHost

by Dorktapus42



Series: Come Together-verse [9]
Category: Youtube (RPF)
Genre: Also a view of how Host sees the world so that's neat I guess, It's Host- there will be blood, Other, This was just supposed to be Host writing fanfic how did it become angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 05:35:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17677391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorktapus42/pseuds/Dorktapus42
Summary: Host has quite the day.Somehow this turned from him writing fanfiction into angst so... I guess I should have expected this.





	ArchiveofourHost

**Author's Note:**

> I swear this was just supposed to be him writing fanfiction I didn't mean for it to go this far.  
> Warnings: Read the tags please. There will be blood, seeing as it's Host.  
> And some plot! Who knew these one-shots kind of had plot? Not me!

_ The leaves scattered around them like auburn-coloured rain. The shadows reflected in his cerulean eyes and he leaned closer- _

“Hey Host?”

Host stopped typing at his laptop and closed the fanfiction he was working on. “Yes? What is it that-” He quickly focused enough to sense through the thick bandages. Aluminum and oranges. “-Bing requires?”

“Can you help Dark with something? He said to call you.”

Oh. Yes. This seemed important. “The Host can accompany Bing for whatever Dark needs.”

Hmm. He reached out and focused on the feeling of gunpowder and quartz as he followed Bing’s footsteps. Dark sat at a table with… that was odd. He couldn’t quite tell. There was one other presence there but he couldn’t- was it cloves or gold? It tasted slightly sour and spicy...

“Host? Are you alright? You’re bleeding a bit.”

He reached up and felt his cheeks. Moisture. “The Host will be fine. He simply focused too much.”

“If you’re sure. While you’re in there do you want me to grab some extra bandages?”

He wiped away as much as he could with his finger and wiped it on his handkerchief. “The Host would appreciate it.” Who could it be…? The sense was familiar from somewhere… maybe they just didn’t stop by very often. 

|Ah, Host. Have a seat.|

He did, still trying to place that sensation. They spoke up. 

“I have a preposition for you. No deals yet, just something to think about.”

One of the Wantstobattles? Not Wire, he tended to be primarily aluminum, with undertones of copper. Mare was more like the scent of moss deep in some forgotten cave in the mountains. Which meant it was Phantom. That made sense. He focused on the matter at hand. 

“Phantom is here to deal with… negative energy supplies?”

“Yup. Mare apparently needs them. I’ve been helping him a bit with my deals, but it only does so much, you know?”

|So you’re looking for a more reliable source?|

“That, and a way to contain it for future use.”

|And you think we can do that?|

“You probably have the best chance of knowing how to do it.”

He tried to think of a way for that to happen. “Host believes he might be able to narrate-? No, scratch that. Host may be able to- no. Could fear transmitted through media suffice?” He knew the answer as soon as he finished the question. 

“Kinda. It’s secondhand fear, plus that just translates into him basically feeding on his own fear and that’s not good for him. I think. It’s really not my specialty.”

He sensed them looked at each other, discouraged. Host’s fingers tensed around the table as he tried to find out as much as possible. 

_ Cane- _

_ Five Nights- _

_ Puppet- _

_ Madness- _

_ Dream- _

He frowned and searched harder. 

_ Guitar- _

_ Mask- _

_ Mangled- _

There. His original video. 

_ A figure with a badly-drawn mask was slumped over, tied to a folding chair. A man with purple streaks down his face came into view and raised a phone from a nearby table to the figure’s ear. It had been ringing.  _

_ [Hello hello? Okay, listen. I have no idea where you are or how you got there. What I do know is that the guy you were seen with last night- he’s bad news. But some good news- if you’re hearing this, chances are you’re still alive. Look, stay calm and if you can, avoid him at all costs. Do your best to hold out until morning. Please just… stay alive.] _

He brought himself back to reality. “In Natemare’s original video he was shown using fear tactics on what appeared to be Madpat slumped over and tied to a chair with a mask on his head. That could be the cause for his reliance on negative emotions.”

“You’re bleeding.”

He ignored the statement. “As for the possibility of containing said negative emotions, Host may or may not be able to narrate something, but suggests he turn to Anxiety seeing as he can induce fear and uneasiness in other people. That may or may not be useful as a future power source as long as it doesn’t drain either person.”

|Host. You’re bleeding on the table.|

He felt the bandages over his eyes. They were soaked through. Wetness ran down his face and he finally tasted the salty tang in his mouth. 

“The Host will go to Dr. Iplier after the meeting.” He focused on the future instead of the possibilities and felt a pang where his eyes used to be. “Virgil would work for a temporary solution but another more long-term solution will come in a few weeks. Host suggests talking to Logan about his experiments with his Emotion Lab.”

|His what?|

“I’ll go ask him about it later. You sure you don’t want to get cleaned up or-?”

“The Host is fine.” He was lying. His eyesockets were starting to hurt. But he could go to Iplier and get it fixed up in a matter of minutes. He swabbed at his cheeks and focused more. “He has successfully managed to bottle a series of emotions with the assistance of Patton such as anger, joy, sadness-”

“That sounds great! Thank you Host!”

He snapped back to the present and nodded. “The Host is welcome. He wishes to talk with Darkiplier for a moment in private.”

|Good. Glad to see we have that sorted out. You’ll be on your way?|

There was a sound not unlike a shwoopoosh and he no longer sensed the mix of cloves and gold. 

|What do you need Host?|

“Please call Dr. Iplier. He is talking with Bing in the west wing of the building.”

And with that he felt a great rush of blood to his head and he tilted sideways and onto the floor. 

Dark pulled out his phone and dialed. |Bing, I need you to take Dr. Iplier to my office. Host collapsed.|

[You got it! We’ll be there in a few minutes!]

He hung up and looked at Host. Host still could sense some of his surroundings but it was all grainy and distorted. 

|Do you have to keep doing this?|

“Host does not find it of great importance. The job gets done.”

|But we care. You doing this to yourself isn’t healthy.|

“The blood seeps into the carpet. Host suggests he gets it replaced.”

|Fuck the carpet. Come on Host, you’ve got us all worried.|

“Host suggests Celine and Damien stop freaking out. He will be fine.” He muttered drowsily. Gunpowder and roses… peppermint and quartz… rubbing alcohol and stainless steel… aluminum and oranges…

“Host! Bing, call Schneep- Host, are you still awake?” Bing’s footsteps moved away.

“Rubbing alcohol and metal…”

“I take that as a yes. Bing, we’re going to need those bandages you got and a bowl of some kind!” He called out towards the hallway. 

“The Googles and Schneep… get a bowl ‘nd… hurry over…” He muttered, a new wave of liquid leaking from his eyes.

“If you even try and narrate them over here I will put lemon juice into your coffee.”

His lips curled into a slightly bloodstained smile. “Iplier is informed to prepare the lemon juice... and that the Host will be drinking tea… for the foreseeable future.” He hated the taste of tea too...

The door burst open. Aluminum and basil. Aluminum and bell pepper. Aluminum and sun-warmed grass. Aluminum and freshly printed papers. Cold coffee and the rough texture of hospital scrubs. 

“Get his bandages off and drain his eyesockets.”

He was turned over and the bandages removed. Rubbing alcohol and stainless steel. The carpet was rough. It hurt his hand from where it was pressed against the ground. 

“Will you stop pushing yourself like this?”

Aluminum and Oranges. A new cloth was wrapped around his eyes. 

“The Host cannot promise.”

A groan. “Can you stop with the hurting yourself thing? It’s annoying enough when we get hurt as accidents. You don’t deserve it.”

_ Cinnamon and Parchment. The sounds of a typewriter. A smooth, silky voice. Eyes that flashed with ambition and annoyance. _

Hands grabbed his wrists and forced them away from his face. “Host. Stop it.”

_ The silvery shine of moonlight upon the wooden floor. Cinnamon. Parchment. Click clack click clack click clack click- _

|Host. Calm down. You’re alright.|

His hands stilled. The clickity-clack faded away into the distance. Cinnamon. Parchment. 

Aluminum. Drying ink. Rubbing alcohol. Cold coffee. Gunpowder. Oranges. The faint smell of cloves. 

|Good. Bing, would you like to take him back to his library?|

Host shook his head. “The Host can function fine on his own-”

“I was going to look through some of the books anyway! C’mon Host, you can tell me what you’re working on as we go!”

Oranges. Aluminum. 

He followed Bing out of the room. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Welp. I swear this wasn't going to be angst when I had the idea.  
> And so it goes. i hope you enjoyed and that you have a great day! I wonder how Mare is dealing with all of this...


End file.
